The Prince Who Fell from the Sky

by John Claude Bemis

  “I knew you’d come back,” a voice whispered below them.

  Casseomae turned to look over the edge. The room below was filled with wolves, and the black-coated Ogeema stood at their center.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  Casseomae felt the platform creaking under her weight.

  “Stay still,” Pang yipped with tucked tail.

  Mother Death hit the doors again.

  “What sort of trouble have you stirred up now?” the Ogeema asked.

  “You don’t want to know,” Dumpster squeaked.

  “It would probably be best if you sent your cub down here to us,” the Ogeema said. A deep-throated chorus of growls filled the room.

  The cub had his back against the doors, wide eyes drifting over the army of wolves. A sudden blow from Mother Death knocked him forward. Casseomae caught his arm with her teeth and pulled him away from the edge.

  “Get behind me, cub,” she growled.

  The child crouched against the wall with Dumpster running madly across his shoulders.

  “What do we do?” Pang asked, looking from the doors to the wolves. “She’ll be through those doors soon.”

  The next blow sent a crack down the center of one of the doors.

  “If not sooner,” Casseomae said. She stood on her hind legs and, struggling to ignore the seething wound in her shoulder, leaned her full weight against the doors. Mother Death hit them again with a furious howl.

  “Best come down with us,” the Ogeema suggested. “Let us protect you from … whatever it is you’ve disturbed.”

  The cat rammed the doors again, and a shard of wood broke away, slamming into Casseomae’s nose. The doors were crumbling. Another blow, and Mother Death would be through.

  As she listened to Mother Death circling for a final charge, Casseomae had a desperate idea. If Mother Death hit the doors expecting Casseomae to be blocking the doors with her weight …

  Casseomae dropped to all fours and pushed Pang and the cub against the wall.

  “What are you doing?” Pang yipped. The cub grasped Casseomae’s paw in panic.

  The doors exploded into pieces as Mother Death burst through. The cat pitched forward, her claws spread against the floor. But she was going the wrong direction for those hooks to help her. She slid down the short set of remaining stairs, her head tipping over the edge, her back legs flying up.

  She could not stop herself. She fell into the wolves below.

  There was a moment of utter quiet, then a swell of horrific noise. Barks and growls. Roars and howls. Sounds Casseomae had never heard coming from wolf or cat.

  Pang gathered his wits first, dashing through the shattered doors. Dumpster leaped from the cub and followed, with Casseomae and the cub right behind him. The four ran to the room overlooking the alley.

  Dumpster climbed into the window. “They’re leaving,” he said.

  Casseomae stuck her head through the opening. The wolves that had been on watch were running down the alley to join the fight.

  “It’s still too far down to jump,” Casseomae said.

  Dumpster was already out the window, scampering down a ledge that ran along the face of the building. He stopped just over the dumpster at the far end of the alley.

  The rat snapped his tail and leaped. He landed with a plop in the pool of rainwater filling the metal container. Bobbing to the surface a moment later, he paddled to the side, where he climbed up on the edge and shook the water from his fur.

  Pang eyed the ledge dubiously. “It’s too narrow,” he panted.

  Casseomae peered out the window. The ledge was too narrow for Pang and certainly too narrow for her. Suddenly the cub poked his head out of a window farther down the ledge. The window was right over the dumpster.

  The cub waved at her and chirped cheerfully.

  “Come on, old bear,” Pang said, running into the hallway.

  Casseomae followed, the awful roars and howls of the battle louder inside. Pang led her to a room down the hall where the cub was climbing out the window. He squatted like a squirrel on a branch and stared down at the dumpster.

  Casseomae snorted reassuringly at him. “It’s safe, cub. Jump.”

  He took a deep breath and dropped. The child splashed into the water and came up with flailing arms. He sputtered and coughed but soon managed to climb up on the edge of the dumpster’s rim. He looked up and barked for Casseomae and Pang to follow him.

  “You’re next,” Casseomae said.

  The dog ran for the window and leaped, his paws catching the window ledge and propelling him through. Casseomae leaned out to see Pang paddling around inside the dumpster. The child slipped an arm under the dog and hoisted him onto the rim. Both dropped to the ground.

  Casseomae could still hear the terrible battle being waged. They had to hurry. The fight wouldn’t last forever, and then either the wolves or Mother Death would be hunting them.

  She wedged herself up through the window and tumbled down. Her fall was not so well aimed, and her back hip hit the metal edge painfully. Gulping air, she hooked her claws around the dumpster’s top. With a tug that sent a jolt of pain through her injured shoulder, she climbed up and over the side of the dumpster.

  The cub ran up to hug her, but she nudged him away.

  “I’m fine,” she growled. “Pang, can you lead us from here?”

  He barked and ran down the alley toward the far end. Back out in the open street, the noise of Mother Death’s battle with the wolves echoed off the skyscrapers.

  Pang gauged the direction of the sun through the maze of buildings around them. “This way,” he said. “We just have to get to the other side of the city.”

  “And hope we don’t encounter any more Mother Deaths,” Dumpster said from the cub’s shoulder.

  The four ran for some time. The sun was falling behind them when they at last left the towering skyscrapers and reached the river once more.

  “We’ll follow the river, out to where it flows to the Wide Waters,” Pang said. “That seems the quickest way to those spinning towers.”

  “The Havenlands.” Casseomae nudged the cub, and he smiled his doglike smile up at her. “Just a little farther,” she said. “And then you’ll be safe, my cub.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  Although they were all exhausted, even the cub managed to walk until sunset. The Forest again surrounded them, the last ruins of the city’s outskirts far behind. Whenever possible, they walked in the shallows to mask their scent. But much of the river’s edge was clogged with rusting debris, and the water was often too deep and swift for them to safely follow.

  The pain in Casseomae’s hip had subsided, but her shoulder ached where Mother Death had bitten her. That night the pain repeatedly woke her. She tried to lick the wound, but it was in a spot she could not reach.

  “You all right?” Pang asked her in the morning.

  Casseomae took a few steps to break open an ant mound for a meal but almost immediately slumped back to the ground. “It’s that cat’s bite,” she said.

  The dog trotted over to investigate. “It looks bad.”

  “It’s infected,” Dumpster said, climbing up to take a closer look.

  “It’s what?” Casseomae said.

  “Those cats have nasty teeth,” the rat replied. “You need it cleaned, or it’ll get worse.”

  Pang volunteered to lick at the wound. Casseomae endured it as long as she could before rising. “We’ve got to go.”

  Dumpster allowed the child to carry him. As they were walking, Casseomae said, “Those cats acted like they had seen your mischief.”

  “I know,” the rat replied. “Sounded like they did more than just see them.”

  “I suppose it did,” Casseomae said. “But I also got the feeling that at least some of them got away.”

  “Maybe,” Dumpster said, resting glumly in the cub’s cupped palm.

  By the afternoon, the ache in Casseomae’s shoulder had grown terribly. Each step on her front p
aw brought with it a stab of pain.

  “You’re limping,” Pang said. “Let me clean it some more.”

  Casseomae grunted. She lay in a patch of cool shade while the dog licked away the dried blood and oozing pus.

  “I think it’s getting worse,” he finally said.

  “I’ve been bitten deeper,” Casseomae said, though in fact she had not. She lumbered over to the river to lie down in the water, letting it seep into the stinging wound.

  The cub gathered hard plums from a tree and waded into the river to offer them to her.

  “No, cub,” Casseomae snorted. “You feed yourself. I can still forage just fine.”

  When the cub continued holding them out, Casseomae sighed and took a bite.

  “Look!” Pang called. He had trotted down the bank a short way and stood atop a log.

  Casseomae came out of the river and followed Dumpster and the cub over. Ahead, the river widened and rounded in a bend. Over the tops of the trees, Casseomae spotted the tips of metal fins rising and falling lazily.

  “How far away are they?” Dumpster asked.

  “Can’t tell,” Pang replied. “Let’s keep going.”

  They journeyed into the late afternoon, following the ever-widening river. When they stopped to drink, they found the water strangely salty.

  “That’s the Wide Waters you’re tasting,” Pang said excitedly. “I’ve always heard they taste of blood. They say that unless you’re a fish, you can’t drink from them.”

  “Is it poisoned?” Dumpster asked, drawing back from the bank.

  “I don’t know,” Pang said. “Maybe it’s best we drink from the Forest’s puddles from now on.”

  They caught more glimpses of the towers as they went, and soon even the red glowing eyes in the towers’ centers.

  “They’re like flowers,” Pang said.

  “I’ve never seen flowers like that,” Dumpster said. “Flower petals don’t spin around.”

  “They still look like flowers,” the dog said, trotting around a rusting vehicle. “To me, anyway.”

  “What’s strange are the lights,” Dumpster said. “Lights need electricity to glow. That’s one of those things that disappeared with the Old Devils.”

  “Then how are they doing that?” Casseomae asked.

  “Scratch me bald if I know,” Dumpster said.

  Casseomae puzzled on it, feeling slow-headed with the pain spilling from her shoulder.

  When the sun had set and the Forest darkened, Pang asked, “Should we rest for the night?”

  Casseomae glanced behind them. “I’d feel better sleeping in the Havenlands,” she said.

  “Me too,” Dumpster said. “My whiskers are tingling.”

  Pang looked back the way they had come, flicking his ear and sniffing. When he turned back, he said, “A little farther, then.”

  They left the riverside, tramping through the dark Forest with the glowing eyes guiding them. The cub slogged along next to Casseomae, his hand resting on her side. He murmured something melodic and birdlike that Casseomae found soothing. With each step, the lights grew closer. Just as Casseomae felt her throbbing legs could carry her no farther, she heard Pang yelp.

  “What is it?” Dumpster squeaked, clawing his way onto the child’s shoulder.

  The dog was sniffing at a strange-looking metal branch sticking straight up from the ground. It was tall, as tall as Casseomae when she stood on her hind legs.

  “I’m not sure,” Pang said. “Something stung me.” He took a cautious step past the metal branch, then yelped again. Tucking his tail, he circled around behind Casseomae.

  “Stay back, cub,” she growled. As she approached the metal branch, she could see that it was one of many running in a straight line through the Forest in both directions. Each branch was about five paces from the next, but there was nothing between them—no wires, no rusty strings of barbs, nothing.

  A strange odor hovered over the place, unlike anything she’d smelled before, and a dull hum tickled her eardrums.

  Casseomae touched her nose to the closest metal branch. When nothing happened, she stretched her snout into the space between the branches. Immediately a jolt of pain rushed through her body. She stumbled back and shook her head. “What was that?”

  Dumpster snapped his tail. “I can’t believe it. I can’t scratchin’ believe it.”

  “What is it?” Pang said.

  “The lights, and now this.” Dumpster flicked his whiskers. “Electricity. It’s got to be electricity!”

  “How do we get past it?” Casseomae asked.

  “Well, as my old da used to say,” Dumpster said, “ ‘Every fence has a gate.’ ”

  “What does that mean?” she asked.

  “It means we need to follow these and hope there’s a passage through them.”

  They followed the metal branches through the Forest. Soon the trees on the other side thinned out. Casseomae saw a wide expanse of land speckled with shadowy clusters. It could have been her meadow except that it was much bigger, and the grass was too short to even whisper in the night’s winds.

  Dumpster was staring at the shadowy shapes spread throughout the field. “What are those?” he asked.

  “Bushes?” Casseomae guessed. “Relics?”

  Then one of the shadows moved.

  Pang whined and backed up a step. Casseomae lifted her nose and sampled the air. She could smell them; they were viands of some sort.

  They came upon one that was near the edge of the barrier. It stood on four legs and was big, bigger even than a bear. It was eating, tearing chunks of grass from the ground. As they approached, the creature made a low sound and lumbered away. Its white eyes glowed faintly in the starlight as it looked back at them.

  “A deer?” Pang guessed. “But what a fat deer!”

  “That’s no deer,” Dumpster said. “That’s a beef. But I thought they were all wiped out by the wolves after the Old Devils vanished.”

  “It seems that some survived here in the Havenlands,” Casseomae said. She gazed at the fat-bellied beast. There was no way it could have survived in the Forest. She doubted it could run. And it had no horns, no means to protect itself from a hunting pack.

  She felt a welling of optimism that momentarily pushed aside the pain in her shoulder. If these ancient creatures had survived here, then the Havenlands really were safe from voras.

  “We’ve got to get across,” she snorted.

  “You can’t,” squeaked a small voice from the dark.

  Dumpster spun around, sniffing furiously. “Stormdrain … Is that you?”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  The dry leaves behind them rustled, and a rat crept out from underneath them. He stood on his hind legs and sniffed the air. “Dumpster!” he said. “Lord Murk, bless my eyes. How did you ever find us?”

  Dumpster ran to greet the rat, lowering to his belly to allow Stormdrain to nip at his ears and comb his fur with his teeth. “Are the others with you?” Dumpster asked.

  “They are hiding in a log nearby,” Stormdrain said, flicking his whiskers toward the dark. “What few of us are left.”

  Dumpster sat up. “The cats? Is it true they attacked you?”

  Stormdrain wrinkled his whiskers. “Yes. We were fool enough to think that the city was the Havenlands because of the beasts in the river. Those monsters should have feasted on us, but they didn’t. They were frightened of us. Beasts of that size frightened of us! What were they, Dumpster?”

  “I don’t know,” he said. “I’ve seen much that the Memory can’t explain.”

  “If only you’d been with us. You surely would have warned us of what lay in that city.” Stormdrain’s whiskers drooped. “We crossed the river and searched for a spot for our new colony. The shadows had hardly lengthened before we were set upon by such a number of cats as I have never seen.”

  “We saw,” Dumpster said. “We came through the city.”

  “You were fortunate to have protection,” he said, eye
ing Casseomae. “We ran for the river. Many were caught by the pusses or simply lost in the panic. All that are left could sleep in a single burrow. And here at last we have found the Havenlands, Murk bless us, but alas there is no way to enter. Curb, our fearless scout, died trying to cross. Something burned him alive with no fire or heat.”

  “It’s electricity,” Dumpster said.

  “I thought as much, trying to conjure what you’ve taught me.” The old rat licked at a wound on his forepaw. “I’m sorry we left you. After the skyscraper fell … well, we feared you were lost with the others.”

  “I don’t blame you,” Dumpster said. “You had the mischief to think of. I’m just glad to find you again.”

  “Me too, wise buck.” The rat eyed Casseomae, Pang, and the child. “Who are your companions? And how have you charmed them into serving you?”

  “Serve him!” Pang yapped. “He—”

  “—has helped us enormously,” Casseomae said, lowering her nose to Stormdrain.

  Pang’s remaining ear cocked, but he didn’t argue.

  Dumpster lifted his nose toward the cub. “Do you see that creature there?” Dumpster asked the old rat. “That is an Old Devil!”

  Stormdrain slunk back a few steps. “What! How can this be?”

  Casseomae explained how the child had fallen from the sky. “He’s alone, and just a cub. He won’t harm you.”

  “What foolishness is this!” Stormdrain squeaked. “Why would you do such a thing? You know what his kind did.”

  “You aren’t wrong to think that,” Dumpster said. “I scratchin’ thought it myself. But if you had seen all that this bear has done to protect the cub, you would feel about him as I do. Besides, he’s more bear and dog now than Old Devil.”

  Stormdrain watched Casseomae with unblinking eyes.

  “We are searching for a way across this fence,” Dumpster said. “We have to get the cub to the Havenlands and beyond. There’s a safe place for him there, a place the bear can raise him without threat from the wolves. Gather the mischief. We will make our colony there.”